Poptart Notes: Hoo, may be going a bit quick with this. Oh well. Action taim!
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Chapter 6: Merely Some Medicinal Magic
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Smoke came flooding in an instant, pouring down Albert's throat, choking and blinding him. The sudden shock of being caught in the inferno threw him to his knees as he fought for air. He inched forth on the ground, nonetheless, just out of his need to live. He continued forth until there was a small cracking beneath his fingertips, followed by a soft cutting feeling into his palm. Albert quickly pulled his hand back, sensing that he'd sliced himself on the broken glass (though he was only assuming, not being able actually see through his own tears).
After this, Albert quickly deducted that this meant he was very close to this window. Staggering back onto his feet, he stumbled through the smoke for about a yard, sputtering the whole way. Eventually, both of his hands felt their way into the window's frame, while getting further cut on the remaining glass in the process. Heedless of it, Albert heaved himself out of it to land into the grass face-first. The relief that he had been expecting from the blazing library, which was still crackling and venomously hot behind him, was not present. Rather, the outside world was about twice as hot and ridden with smoke.
This time, Albert couldn't be pried from his knees. Dragging himself and hacking hard, he attempted to crawl back in the general direction of his home. He had almost gone a yard when he heard the explosion of a gun, then feeling a severe pain overtake the back of his arm. Finally shooting back up, he made a mad dash in the direction he was going in, one hand clasped over his gunshot wound. He felt the blood running out between his fingers and out into the open air, and he heard presumably the same gun firing at him several more times behind him (thankfully missing), and the sound of several buildings going up to roaring fire.
Thankfully, as he went on, the gunfire ceased and the fires weakened until he came back into Maple Street. Gasping for air, Albert thanked God and rubbed the tears from his eyes with a slightly-singed coat-sleeve. He changed his pace to a slow trot as he approached his home. As he did so, he groggily went about wondering how to inform his mother of the bullet wound in his arm without her becoming panicked.
Albert vaguely realized that his glasses were too spotted with tears to see out of. He tore them from his face and chucked them unceremoniously over his shoulder, allowing them to stay on the ground. He should've been more panicked. He knew that. A gunman and arson pretty well implied horrible things. Still, he couldn't bring himself to move any faster.
"Just a moment of your time!" That voice in particular, the familiar one from earlier that week, however, was able to bring him to a jog. Squinting and straining, he could hardly make out the beige business suit, standing in front of the length of bright red hair.
"Get out of my way." Candace demanded, trying to step from side to side to make it to her home. Yet, with each time she did it, Archdale was right back in her way again. He grinned it that unsettling way and prattled on,
"It won't even take thirty seconds, my young little lady!"
"I don't HAVE one second." Candace attempted to jerk her arm from Arch's iron grip. She failed in this, however, and this time she was pulled back hard and forced onto the ground. Quick as a flash, Archdale produced a syringe, which was filled to the brim with an odd yellow liquid, from his rear pocket.
"But, my dear, it is only an experiment. I assure you that it is perfectly safe."
And, a breath's time right after "safe", Arch was sent face-first to the ground.